Divas and Driftwood
by flootzavut
Summary: Ducky, Ziva, dinner, and a karaoke bar. Nuff said? Random plot bunny prompted by a conversation about Diva being the Ducky/Ziva ship name, and written for the NFA We're Not Canon challenge.


**A/N:**

The song I referenced is Driftwood, by the band Travis.  
L'chaim means to life, and is used where English speaking people would say something like "cheers".  
Todah raba means thank you very much.  
Bevakashah can mean please or you're welcome.  
L'hitraot means goodbye/see you again.  
A conversation about how Diva is the 'ship name for Ducky and Ziva prompted a plot bunny that refused to leave me alone. Not a pairing I've written before or to which I'm likely to return, but I decided to let this bunny run free for Sherry!

**_Divas and Driftwood_**

"I did not realise you enjoyed karaoke, Doctor."

Ziva had never been to a karaoke bar before - she wasn't even sure such a thing existed in Israel - and when she had accepted the offer of dinner, this had definitely not been what she had expected.

"Oh please, my dear, call me Ducky! And I've always enjoyed a good sing. We Scots are not so dour as everyone thinks, you know." He raised his glass to her. "L'chaim!"

Ziva clinked her drink against his and smiled. "L'chaim." It was nice, and oddly comforting, to find someone here in DC who was unconnected with Mossad, her father, or all the other things from which she was attempting to escape who nevertheless knew a little of her native language.

Ducky was already on his third glass of whiskey, and getting more and more chatty. Ziva was sipping sake and content to listen to his stories when the volume of the would be singers allowed it. Even though they were quite a distance from the stage, some of the louder, more obnoxious or less tuneful singers were a challenge to ignore.

"Of course, in those days we didn't call it karaoke," he was saying. "Before we had television, it was a common way to pass the time. Mother was quite an accomplished pianist in her day, and passed on her love of singing to me when I was a youngster. If she had only been born a few decades later, she could have been a bit of a diva! I don't have her talent, but I do my best to carry the torch. Now, my dear." He placed a hand on her knee, his voice suddenly serious as he leaned in close, and she blinked. "What do you think I should sing?"

"I do not know, Ducky. I am not familiar with the choices, I..." She felt embarrassed to feel so out of her depth. Her discomfort was worsened by a sudden horrible thought: was this supposed to be a date? That was not what she had wanted, but maybe she had misread Ducky's intentions.

"Ah! I know just the thing!" He tapped her knee twice, a gesture that she told herself felt friendly more than anything else, then went to request his song.

She let out a long breath, and rolled her shoulders to ease her tension, telling herself he was just a little tipsy. She was not used to the casual intimacy that was apparently normal in this country, and it left her feeling vulnerable and ill at ease. Usually she could read situations and people with almost no effort - in her job, she had no choice, it was a matter of survival - but she was not as familiar with American ways and customs as she could be, and working at NCIS was frequently confusing. Even after spending time on assignment with Jen, and plenty of other Americans, the whole atmosphere of the agency was different from anything she had expected, and it was taking her some time to find her place here, to fit into the rhythm.

When he returned they ordered food, and it helped her relax to have something to concentrate on. He didn't touch her unexpectedly again, and she hoped she hadn't offended him with her reaction.

Gradually she began to have fun, her inhibitions loosened by alcohol and their mutual, badly muffled laughter at some of the poorer singers. She found herself nudging Ducky's shoulder with her own to draw his attention when the music got loud, and when he pretended to scold her for distracting him from the song, wagging his finger at her, she grabbed his hand between her own without even thinking about it.

She didn't know how to read his reaction, but she herself was surprised at what she'd done. They sat and looked at each other for a moment - and then Ducky's song was called.

Ziva shook off the moment as he made his way to the microphone. She had seen such an array of talent and the lack of it on stage that she had no idea whether he would be any good or if he just enjoyed playing the fool as a release from his rather serious and sombre occupation. The introduction to the song gave her few clues, although it was not what she had expected. He'd told her it was Scottish, and she'd expected some old folk ballad, not guitar chords.

She was pleasantly surprised when he began to sing. She was impressed by his singing voice, light and tuneful, and maybe more so by the song he'd chosen. It was a song about drifting and having no roots. Unexpectedly, she was touched. Even though the song was rather melancholy, a part of her instinctively felt this was Ducky's invitation to her to find somewhere to belong... Maybe there was a place for here at NCIS, and she would not, after all, end up as a piece of driftwood, broken apart by the tides of life.

As the song went on, she felt the last of her nerves leave her. She still wasn't sure exactly what this evening was, what it meant, but suddenly that no longer worried her as it had before.

When Ducky returned from the stage, she returned his slightly tentative smile with a more confident one of her own.

"That was beautiful, Ducky."

His smiled more widely, clearly pleased, and nodded. "I had hoped you would appreciate the song. I am not one for pop music, but that particular group are one of the few whose songs I enjoy." Once he was settled in the booth, he placed his hand over hers on the table and his expression grew more serious. "Ziva, I know everything here is new to you, and it cannot be easy trying to fill a place on Gibbs' team that was created by tragedy. But please believe me when I say that though you have only been with us a short time, you have become part of our little family, and we care very deeply for you already."

Ziva found herself rather moved at his kind words. "Todah raba," she managed to whisper.

"Bevakashah." His grin returned, and she got the impression he was rather proud of his Hebrew. "I recognise someone searching for roots, my dear. I spent much of my career travelling, and I have many interesting stories, but there comes a time in one's life when having someone or something to return to becomes more important than the freedom from encumbrances." He gave her hand a squeeze. "I hope that you will find a home with us."

She bit her lip, smiled, and then reached for the menu. To her relief, Ducky accepted her change of subject. He squeezed her hand once more, then released it. "So. I take it you are ready for dessert?"

* * *

Ziva yawned hugely as Ducky hailed a taxi, and he chuckled at her. "Dear me, young people these days - you have no stamina at all!" They were huddled under his small umbrella, taking shelter from a light drizzle that had started as they left the bar.

She giggled. Being teased felt very much like acceptance, and that was something which was hugely comforting for her. "I would protest that remark if I was not so tired," she teased back.

Ducky opened the door of the cab that had stopped. "You take this one, Ziva - my patients don't mind if I yawn at them, but I'm sure that Gibbs will want you well rested. And if you aren't, I should hate for him to know it was my fault!"

"I will not give you away, even under torture," she promised with a smile. On an impulse, she bent down and placed a quick kiss on his mouth.

When she straightened up, he looked more than a little surprised, his eyes wide. "Ziva, I-"

She replaced her lips with her finger. "Thank you, Ducky. Maybe... Maybe we could do this again sometime? Sometime soon?"

That sweet smile again, and his cheeks went a little pink. "I should like that very much."

"I'm glad."

He helped her into the cab, and despite the rain drifting in through the open door, she hesitated, strangely reluctant to end the evening. "Goodbye, Ducky."

His eyes twinkled, and he raised two fingers to the edge of his hat in salute. "L'hitraot. Oh, and Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"I've now exhausted almost all my Hebrew, I'm afraid. I shall expect you to teach me some more."

She laughed, and allowed him to finally close the door. He stood and waved her off, and she watched him till the car turned a corner and he disappeared from view.

Settling back into the seat, she smiled once again. The evening had not been what she had expected in any way, but somehow it had been exactly what she needed. For the first time since she'd arrived here in Israel, she suddenly felt a little at home, thanks to Ducky and his kindness.

Next time, she decided, she would sing herself - or maybe even suggest a duet. And next time... she wouldn't mind at all if it _was_ a real date.


End file.
